


Curiosity

by Kate_Shepard



Series: Banal Nadas [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: The Inquisition team makes camp, and Lavellan reveals a custom that surprises Solas. He isn't accustomed to being treated like a god, but granting her wish is easy enough.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel/Female Lavellan
Series: Banal Nadas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720828
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	Curiosity

"Should we set up camp or move on?" Varric asked.

"This looks as good a spot as any," Lavellan said. "Flat ground, running water, allies nearby. Let's make camp."

Together, the four of them erected field tents and laid out bedrolls while Harding's people brought in supplies. Cassandra and Varric bickered as they'd been doing since Solas had come upon them, leaving him working with the other elf. She worked as diligently as the rest of them, and in short time, their tent was complete and she was gathering smooth stones from the stream and laying them out in a ring for the fire. Rather than collect wood, though, she brought a carved statue of a tree from her rucksack and placed it in the center, lighting it with a wave of her hand. 

“ _Mythal, va ghilana var aravas,_ ” she murmured, “ _la las va vhenas_.” 

_Mythal, guide our journey and grant us home._ He wondered what his old friend would think of the Inquisitor. He suspected she would like her. They were both guardians of the innocent, putting the needs of others before themselves.

She'd surprised him in Haven with her offer of protection. He couldn't recall the last time someone had wanted to protect _him._ People usually sought protection _from_ him. He had no doubt about her sincerity, though. It was…touching.

Their camp complete, Lavellan returned to her knapsack, coming up with bundles of linen which she carried with an air of reverence. Curious, he followed at a distance to the peak of the ridge at the edge of camp, watching while she crouched down and placed another carving. If she noticed him, she gave no indication as she carried more still bundles to the edge of the camp. He didn’t know why he was still following. He had no patience for foolish superstition. He should return to camp, but she was currently the most interesting thing to observe here. Did she plan to honor the entirety of the so-called pantheon? There didn’t appear to be enough bundles for that. Who had her favor and who did not? He couldn’t quite hear her, so he edged closer, clasping his hands behind his back as he debated approaching until he heard his name and his head snapped up.

 _“Fen’Harel va ghilana dirthalen var somniar.”_ She cast a ward over what he saw now was a carving of a wolf like those he’d seen outside Dalish camps and moved to another corner of theirs, placing a second. _“Na hallam va harillen.”_ A third followed at another corner and then a fourth. _“Fen’Harel va enasam.”_ She rose and surveyed the wolves now facing out from the points of their camp.

_Dread Wolf guide us truly through our dreams. Take our enemies. Dread Wolf bless us._

He had yet to hear a Dalish address him without fear. They remembered only pieces of what he’d done to the evanuris and those the Dalish called the Forgotten Ones. They didn’t remember why he’d done it. He’d saved them and cursed them, but not out of malice. They had nothing to fear from him. At least, not for the reasons they believed. 

She, however, didn’t fear him. 

“Why four when Mythal got only one?” he asked, unable to resist. 

She propped her hands on her hips and said, “He can’t guard what he can’t see, now can he?”

_I see more than you know, da’len._

“If the Dalish fear Fen’Harel so much, why do you trust him to guard your camps?” he asked. 

A delicate flush spread over her cheeks and crept up her ears. She ducked her head, looking at one of the tiny statues instead of at him. Her fingers toyed with the leather belt around her waist from which hung her spellbook. 

She said, “I was not born to Clan Lavellan. I was sent to them. My...Hahren, I suppose you could call him. Felassan's views on the Dread Wolf were not quite the same as most Dalish. I wasn’t taught to fear him until I came to Lavellan.”

The world truly was a small place. He hadn’t been aware of her connection to his late agent. Not that it mattered anymore, but he did wonder what the elf said about him when he wasn’t listening.

“What were you taught, then?” he asked, clasping his hands behind his back and strolling along the stream.

She followed as he expected her to do, saying, “To respect him. That if you do, he will answer, but to expect his help to take an unexpected form. Are you familiar with the story of the slow arrow?”

His mouth twitched but he schooled his expression. He couldn’t decide whether he was amused or offended at the idea of being taught about himself by one such as her. At least she wasn’t certain of the falsehoods she thought she knew. 

“I am,” he said.

Her brow flickered. “Something which always stood out to me in that story was the line ‘When did I say that I would save you?’ Keeper Mahariel interpreted it as proof that Fen’Harel couldn’t be trusted, but I disagreed.”

Intriguing. He cocked his head, regarding her. It was rare in his admittedly limited experience to find a Dalish who thought for herself. 

“He did exactly what the people asked of him. He killed it. And I think…” she chewed her lip and said slowly, “it wasn’t his job to save them. They should have saved themselves. They could have left. They stayed, knowing that the beast was going to prey on them. How, then, does that make him the villain?” She gestured to the statues behind them. “I ask his protection, yes, but I also set wards. I don’t just go to sleep. They didn’t understand him. That’s not his fault,” she finished in a rush. 

“And you believe you do?” he asked. “Understand him, that is?”

“He was always my favorite,” she confessed, still not meeting his eyes. As if she didn’t want to see his reaction to what she was saying. As if the very idea of it was so heretical as to be spoken only in hushed whispers with eyes averted. “The Creators are too good. And where are they? Have they ever answered you? I’ve certainly never heard from them. They’re as absent as the humans’ Maker. I’ve had more help from Asha’bellanar than Andruil or Elgar'nan.”

“You know Asha’bellanar?” he asked. 

It seemed the wisps of his world had somehow managed to tangle themselves around her. If he’d believed in fate or gods, she might lead him to wonder if there was some design leading him to her.

“It was she who suggested that Keeper Mahariel send me to the Conclave,” she said. “One of the last things I remember before I woke up in that dungeon.”

His eyes narrowed at that. _What game are you playing, old friend?_

She continued on, unnoticing. “The point is, I can’t understand perfection, so I can’t trust it, and the Creators are these silent, perfect beings. Fen’Harel is not, but he’s not evil, either, which means he can be understood and he can be trusted to be who he is.” 

“And do you believe that Fen’Harel has answered you?” he asked. He’d never seen her before the Temple, so her answer would be telling. If she said yes, then she was merely a superstitious shemlen.

She shrugged a shoulder. “If my presence here _is_ the result of divine intervention, I’m far more willing to believe it was he who put me here than the Chantry’s Maker or Andraste.”

Technically, that much was true insofar as it went. It certainly wasn’t deliberate, but he’d indirectly brought her to this role. She was wrong, though. He wasn’t divine, just a hotheaded fool who’d acted carelessly, made mistake after mistake, and was now desperate to fix his failings. 

He would, however, guard the camp. And if he watched over her dreams, well, it was only curiosity. 

**Author's Note:**

> I made up a few of the words such as the 'we/our' form and cobbled together and conjugated other parts from known language, but tried to keep as close to game canon as possible.


End file.
